City of reckoning, p.31
City of Reckoning, page 31
Only a couple pills.
“What do you want to know?” Kindy said, pushing aside the guilt. It wasn’t hard, and she wasn’t sure whether this made her relieved or more disquieted.
“Anything and everything.”
Kindy did her best. She described the meeting in Lasía’s tent; the moments of hushed conversation, of nervous glances in her direction, though she hadn’t been able to understand what was exchanged. She mentioned a few Karoi words she’d heard repeated a lot; Commander Arjis seemed to take special interest in this.
After several long minutes of questions, the commander glanced at Kindy’s wrists with sudden interest.
“What’s that, around your arms?” he said.
“Oh… the night I first showed up, the shackles were hurting me, so she took some of her wet laundry that was hanging in her tent and wrapped it—”
“Wait, say that again.”
“I’m sorry, which part?” The headache was absolutely unbearable now. When would he stop grilling her?
“She had wet laundry hanging inside her tent, you say? The night we deposited you with her?”
“Yes?” Was this somehow important?
Commander Arjis exchanged a meaningful glance with Officer Chellin. “Thank you, Young Hanner. You have been surprisingly helpful. Officer, see to it that her things are returned to her. You may bring her back to your troops.”
“Thank you, ote.”
Officer Chellin clicked off Kindy’s shackles—a beautiful sound. Kindy rubbed her raw wrists, Lasía’s wrung-out tunic falling into her hands. It smelled softly of mildew. Guilt pricked her again.
“I’ll take that,” Commander Arjis said, snatching away the tunic. He shook it out, examining it with narrowed eyes.
Kindy had no idea what his deal was with Lasía’s laundry, but she didn’t want to think about that right now. As Officer Chellin handed over her axe and bag, it was all Kindy could do not to reach inside and take her pills, right then and there.
“Come on,” Officer Chellin said, leading her roughly by the elbow out of the tent.
“Nocturan,” Commander Arjis called after her. There was darkness in his voice. “A single look, a breath, a sneeze that makes me suspect you, and I’ll put your head on a stake.”
Squeezing her bag more tightly, Kindy gave a stiff nod.
She was in a daze as Officer Chellin took her back to her rightful tent. It had only been several days, but it felt like a lifetime ago, when a much more foolish Kindy had snuck out of that tent in the dead of night.
“Your shield and spear are inside.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s thank you, ote.”
“Ote. Sorry.” Just go away, she wanted to say. Let me have my dathal in peace.
But just as Officer Chellin strode away, Kindy was bombarded by hugs from Jensen and Carinna. Lukis stood close by, not nearly as touchy as the others.
Jensen held onto her most tightly. “Don’t scare me like that again, sis,” he whispered in her ear.
Kindy hardly responded. She was happy to be here, too, but—
Jensen let go of her, standing back to look her in the face. “Kindy?” He seemed worried.
“I’m fine. I mean—I’m not.” She rubbed her forehead. “I just—I’m sorry, I need to relieve myself.”
“Oh!” Jensen sprang back, as if she were a bomb in danger of detonating. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”
Kindy didn’t laugh. She took long, quick strides, until she was far away from the ones she loved, and crouched in a shadow next to someone else’s tent.
With a trembling hand, she drew open the bag and searched its contents.
At the bottom of the bag, she found three pills.
Three.
Kindy held them aloft in the starlight. Grøshta.
This wasn’t enough to “ease her transition off”—not at all. Two would hold her off; one was almost useless. Three was an awkward and unworkable number.
Then again…
Before she knew she’d made the decision, Kindy popped all three pills into her mouth. It was more than she’d ever had before, and she knew that coming down from so much dathal was going to be awful. But she’d been craving it so violently, and she was going to battle tomorrow, for gods’ sake.
Wincing from the initial discomfort, she soon sagged to the ground, eyes wide from the strength of the drug’s sensation. Tingling crept down her arms, shifting from warm to cold to hot. Her body felt wrong. The world around her felt wrong, as if all her senses had been pushed sideways and inside out and backwards.
Kindy hated herself then, more than she ever had before.
But the feeling didn’t last. Along with all her other emotions—pain and hate and terror and passion—it faded into a long-needed, sweet numbness. It was as if someone had dampened all her sensations; they were still there, but much weakened, with all the hard edges removed, making them actually bearable.
However, Kindy’s stomach burned. She fumbled through her bag, but the yellow nectar was gone, too.
“Curse you, Commander Arjis,” she whispered, just before she dry-heaved.
Curse dathal, she thought. Curse this. Curse all of this.
When she felt she could stand again, Kindy clambered to her feet, taking deep breaths as the nausea slowly subsided. With uncertain steps, she made her way back toward the others.
Everything around her seemed so… funny. The sky seemed crooked. The ground seemed to sway, like water sloshing in a bucket. She giggled, then yelped as she bumped her elbow against a crate. How did that get there?
Kindy giggled again.
Oh no. She was delirious, wasn’t she? Better avoid talking. The others might notice.
Then again, who cared? She was about to die anyway.
“Kindy,” Jensen said, as soon as she returned. “We need to talk.”
So much for that.
“All right.” Kindy stood before her friends, concentrating very hard on keeping a normal composure. A fire pit in the corner of her eye distracted her. The fire was glowing so bright… it seemed to be pulsing. Tightening, then expanding. Did fire always look like that?
“Sis.” Jensen took her by the hands, drawing her focus back on him. “Why did you do it? Why did you…” He bit his lip. He was trying to hide it, but Kindy could tell he was wounded by her actions. Confused. Angry, even.
There was no use hiding this from him anymore.
“I’m sorry. I had to.”
“Had to what? I don’t understand.”
“The one who knows…” She glanced around, and lowered her voice. “… about our family. I was going to go… stop him.”
Perhaps some details were best omitted.
“The war will be over quickly.” His grip on her hands tightened. “We can go and stop him together.”
“You’ll have to do it without me.” Her gaze dropped to the ground. “It’s Charris, Jensen.” She met his eyes again, but somehow, he still felt very far away from her. Like she was dreaming this conversation, not experiencing it for real. “Charris is the one who knows.”
Jensen’s eyes widened. After a moment, he said softly, “What do you mean—I have to do it without you?”
Kindy felt suddenly exhausted. “Because I’ll die tomorrow.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Jensen crushed her in a tight hug. “None of us are going to die. You hear me? We’ll stick together.” He opened the hug, inviting the others to join. “All of us.”
Carinna hooked an arm around Kindy. “He’s right.” Her eyes were brave. “We’ll have each other’s backs.”
Lukis hesitated.
“Come on, oddball.” Jensen grinned at him and punched his arm. “Join the love party!”
Lukis smiled, looking both embarrassed and relieved as he entered the group hug. He slipped an arm around Kindy’s back, but left his hand floated away from her, as if touching her directly, with his hand, was too intimate.
With the three of them enclosing her, Kindy didn’t feel suffocated or trapped—not this time.
She felt warm. And loved. And for a brief moment, she felt safe, and not so alone.
Despite the fog in Kindy’s mind and emotions, her heart cracked. Tears stung her eyes.
“Stick together,” she repeated.
“You got it.” Jensen drew back and grinned. Kindy found herself coveting the hope and optimism and naivety in his eyes. “This will be over soon. You’ll see. We’ll be all right.”
“Lights out!” barked a passing officer.
The four friends glanced at each other in rueful silence.
“We should sleep,” Carinna said.
Jensen nodded. “See you in the morning.” He said it softly, with only the slightest hint of fear—that fear none of them wanted to voice, him least of all.
But maybe he was right. Maybe they would all be fine. Maybe everything would turn out as it should. Maybe there was nothing to be afraid of.
Maybe.
After they exchanged their goodnights, Kindy trudged after Carinna for their shared tent—but just before she went inside, Lukis called for her.
“Wait.” He touched her arm lightly, immediately dropping his hand when she faced him.
It made her… almost sad, the way he drew away so quickly.
Kindy was very aware, then, that the two of them were alone.
“Something’s wrong.” He seemed bolder than usual, the typical hesitation and stuttering gone from his voice. “I can tell.”
“What do you—”
“You think I don’t notice, Kindy?” He stepped closer, and she shuffled back, heart pattering. “How you isolate yourself? How you barely eat?”
“I—”
“Or how you left us a few minutes ago, and then came back acting—different?”
Kindy felt suddenly rooted in place, her body flooded with muted panic. Lukis’s eyes flared as he stepped toward her again, gaze boring into hers. He was so close now that she felt his breath on her forehead.
“I can see the dilation in your eyes,” he said, “even if the others can’t.”
“That’s just Nocturan—”
“What are you taking? Is it kimish? Or something harder?”
A hollow pit opened in Kindy’s stomach.
He was… angry at her. She hadn’t seen him like this before. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
Kindy swallowed. “I’m… I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me. Please.” He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, there was pain there. “Let me help you.”
Unexpected relief crashed through her. Kindy sighed. “You won’t have to. I don’t have any more.” She looked away, ashamed. “Commander Arjis took it.”
The truth hung in the air between them. With her half-admission, a burden melted from her shoulders.
Lukis knew. She wasn’t alone anymore.
Lukis knew.
Slowly, like one trying not to startle a wild animal, Lukis reached out his hand, brushing his fingers against hers.
A question.
Kindy answered, threading her fingers between his, heart thudding. Lukis’s hand was warm and rough.
“You don’t have to keep us out, Kindy. We’re your friends.”
“I know.”
His face was inches from hers. She could count the freckles on his cheeks. Some of them seemed to be moving—no, that was the dathal messing with things, wasn’t it?
Lukis licked his lips. The ekralight traced a thin line along the curve of his mouth.
What she felt then—she couldn’t identify it, as the drug dampened the strange and distant swell in her chest.
She wanted to wake up. She wanted to feel this.
“You don’t have to take that terrible stuff,” he said softly. “You can talk to us, all right?”
“Us. You keeping saying us.”
Lukis’s hand had grown clammy. He let go, and sadness pinched in Kindy’s chest.
“I’m just saying what any of us would say.” Red-cheeked, Lukis stuffed his hands behind his belt, stepping back.
“You’re not everyone. You’re you.”
She almost reached for him, but she didn’t trust—nor understand—what she was feeling. Was this really her, or was it just the drug?
“Yeah. Well.” He looked away, and in the awkward silence, Kindy felt her heart pinch again.
“Well… thanks for looking out for me.”
“Yeah.” He gave a bashful smile, and the stars danced in his eyes. “Always.”
In the darkness of her tent, Kindy sat wide-awake on her cot. She hugged her knees to her chest, throat tight.
When she closed her eyes, the room seemed to spin—and all she saw was Lukis, hand extended, chestnut eyes awash in starlight.
35
The sun never rose. Gray, rumbling clouds shrouded its light as Kindy stumbled out of her tent, Carinna by her side.
They soon joined the boys, but none of the four were in the mood for talking.
Cooks shoved bowls of cold sludge in their faces. Kindy took hers and numbly slurped the tasteless, slimy substance. She barely finished half of it before she completely lost her appetite and handed it to someone else.
Thousands of soldiers surrounded her, crouched on the ground as they shoved food into their mouths. A howling wind powered through their midst, whipping Kindy’s long dark hair wildly around her face. She tied it back in a loose ponytail, tucking stray strands behind her ear.
She noted the lack of appropriate fear in her belly, and was glad for it.
Let the dathal give her this one last gift: The ability to face this day without overwhelming terror.
One last gift, before she never used it again.
Or before she died, which was more probable.
Drums reverberated through camp—the call to battle. Despite the dathal in her veins, Kindy’s heart quickened.
It may have greatly lessened her fear, but it could not remove it entirely.
As she rose groggily to her feet, along with thousands of other soldiers, she staggered, bumping into Carinna.
“Whoa! Are you all right?” Concern etched Carinna’s brow.
“Fine.” Kindy’s face warmed as she hitched her shield onto one hand, and sluggishly hoisted her spear with the other. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”
She felt Lukis’s gaze burning into her, but refused to meet it.
“We’ll stick together,” Jensen said. His voice was hoarse from sleep.
“Together,” she echoed, but the word felt more hollow than it did the night before.
Under the barking orders of officers, thousands of soldiers began to shuffle into line. Kindy felt a surge of gratitude as she and the others fell into position at the back.
Her reaction time was already garbage. In her current, drugged state, it was undoubtedly worse. It was a comfort to know at least she wouldn’t have to fight.
Just hold the line, Officer Chellin’s advice echoed in her ears. Just hold the line.
Kindy glanced at her friends—the most important people to her in the world, she realized, and registered a faint, barely tangible pit in her stomach.
Jensen marched to her immediate left, wide-eyed and eager, his excitement tinged only by a touch of visible fear.
Next to him was Carinna, spear in a white-knuckled grip, looking like a lost kid in an unfamiliar city as brave, fearful eyes took in every detail around her.
And to her left was Lukis, calm and resolute in a way that brought Kindy a twitch of jealousy.
His round, brown eyes met hers, and her thoughts screeched to a halt. She held his gaze a beat, then looked away. A distant, dull ache emanated behind her ribcage.
Quiet thunder rumbled, like the gentle stirrings of a sleeping giant.
Far ahead, the drums began to beat faster.
Lasía’s palms were slick with sweat as she marched along the army’s flanks, members of her people before her, Dorins to her right and to her back.
Beside her strode Ulío, collected and certain.
Commander Arjis, not far behind her, gave the order, and together their division separated from the main army, making its way to eventually attack Pirim’s flanks.
Lasía wiped her palms against her pant leg. Dread was a tumult inside her. This would not do.
She closed her eyes, and focused on the feel of the stiff, nippy wind against her face, until her mind cleared. She buried her grief and anger under a sea of thick, deadly calm.
When she opened her eyes, focus, rather than fear, permeated her thoughts.
“This is it,” she whispered, to no one in particular. Her wolf’s ears twitched in her direction.
The moment she had trained for was here. Today, she would be a pawn in her enemy’s hands.
Today, she would either spill blood, or have her blood be spilled.
Her heart beat in pace with the quickening drums, until, all at once, they cut off.
Silence, like a held breath, gripped the two opposing armies.
And like a boulder teeters at the edge of a cliff, just before it tumbles toward destruction, the pause was short-lived.
Commands cut through the rain-scented air, and with a collective roar, the charge began.
At the back of the line, Kindy watched the front begin its charge, and waited for the momentum to reach her.
Above them, Nocturans from the enemy forces flocked to the sky, and those on the Dorish side rose in response.
Kindy swallowed hard. There were more than twice as many enemy Nocturans.
“Wish you were up there?” Jensen said, with forced levity.
“Not a chance.”
The two flying forces met, in a tangle of wings and limbs and blades, just as the momentum of the charge reached the back of the line.
Seconds later, the two ground forces slammed into each other. The chaos and clamor of ringing metal and agonized screams rang through the empty plains.
As the soldiers around her slowed again, nearly to a stop, gratitude swelled in Kindy’s chest that she was far away from those terrible sounds.
After this was all over, she promised herself, she’d never make any rash decisions to enlist in any gods-damned wars.
